Where There's A Will
by BrokenForYouSpilledForYou
Summary: She wills herself forward, her mind and body still stiff as she props her elbows on the banister. This is it. These words will change her future, and his. She leans over, staring at him. Deep breath, assurance, and then-"Honey?" Lloyd/Olivia


**I do not own Flashforward or any of its characters, just the plot of this story. Thank you.**

**I wrote some of this during the break, then after. Obviously I didn't have all of the facts, such as how long Lloyd was kidnapped, or that Simon was with him, but didn't feel the need to change any of it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it; just a little something that floated around in my head after Lloyd, my favorite character, was kidnapped. **

* * *

He's stunned, to say in the least. He'd imagined he was in danger, danger of a beating, or of death, but abduction had never once crossed his mind. It had been terrible. A toss down the stairs, a bloodied nose, cuts and bruises here and there, all of those hours of interrogation, all those days of solitary confinement...God. But he was alive.

Alive.

The word sounded strange in his head. He hadn't expected to be such by the time he was found. True, there'd been explosions, and his captor had gotten away, but he'd made it with his life, received a second chance.

Second chance.

The mere thought makes his battered chest warm as he walks, escorted, down the quiet, brightly lit hallways of the hospital. He isn't going to take this chance lightly. He's going to be a better father, going to be there for his child's every need, make absolutely certain he knows he cares for him.

And as though the thought of the lad invoked it, there he is, at the end of the hall, his little arms encircling Olivia Benford's waist. _Olivia? _He wonders. Why would she be here, waiting for him, with his child? None the less, he doesn't mind, he never minds _her _presence. He prefers it, in fact, though he knows it's forbidden.

He falls to his knees, weak with fatigue and hunger. "Leave me." He says upon feeling the nurses' hands on his shoulders. The hands leave and he opens his arms just in time for Dylan to crash into them, sending him onto his bum on the cold tile floor.

"You were gone to long." Dylan murmurs, but it's spoken into Lloyd's neck and comes out mangled, and it takes Lloyd a moment to understand.

"I'm sorry," He says. "I tried to get away."

Dylan's arms tighten slightly, but he makes no other indication that he's heard what his father has said. "You were gone too long...You were gone too long."

Lloyd swallows loudly and shifts from side to side, realizing that his neck and shirt are wet where Dylan's face is pressed. _I'm sorry_ is the only thing he can think to say, his mind too tired and frazzled to come up with anything else.

Olivia watches as he finally seems to take notice of her and Charlie standing near, his gaze sliding slowly with realization up her form, up into her eyes. She smiles at him, to his surprise, and kneels down to his level, one hand finding the back of his head, the other resting on Dylan's back. She can tell she's made him feel better already, just with a simple touch to his hair, and doesn't move.

"You were gone too long." Dylan says again. "They burned down your house."

Lloyd's smile vanishes; Olivia wonders why this affects her so much. "What?" He says, his voice a broken whisper.

Olivia nods. "I'll tell you later. For now, I think you should come with me."

He starts to protest, but she shushes him and hoists Dylan onto her hip, and nods to the two male nurses to help the man to his feet.

"I want Daddy to carry me." Dylan complains.

"He will, just not now." Olivia answers patiently. "He's just a little hurt, Dylan. You don't want him to hurt more, do you?" She asks gently.

"Noooo." He says reluctantly.

She puts him and Charlie in the backseat when they reach her car, then opens the passenger door for Lloyd. "Get in." She says quietly.

He stands back, hands in his pockets, head bowed slightly. "I-I...I don't think-..."

"It's okay." She assures. "Get in. It's not like you have anywhere else to go."

He remembers Dylan's comment. Burned his house down? Had they burned his deceased wife's house, too? He gets in slowly, minding his wounds and head.

~ * ~

He's surprised at the smell of hot food when he walks in the door, both enticed and curious. "You knew they'd release me from the hospital tonight?"

Dylan and Charlie run past him and into the kitchen, calling Olivia to get the plates out of the tall cabinet.

She only glances at him, nodding. "I..told them to call me if they received you, so I could let Dylan see you. They said you weren't hurt seriously enough to keep you over night, so I fixed dinner."

He tilts his head back a little, wondering about her sudden change of heart. What had happened while he'd been gone?

"Come on." She says, wrapping her fingers around his elbow. "They said you haven't eaten in a while."

True. He hadn't eaten anything his captors had offered, fearing it would either make him sick...or dead. He winces, though, at the touch to his elbow.

"Sorry." She murmurs, "They didn't give me the diagnosis."

He smiles, thinking to himself that she could hurt him as much as she wished.

~ * ~

Charlie and Dylan finish dinner early, both having snuck snacks before hand. Olivia dismisses them, leaving herself alone with Lloyd while they run to Charlie's room, talking about a game they're going to play.

"Thank you...for your kindness to Dylan." He says suddenly, unintentionally startling her. For the past half-hour he's silently been picking at his food, hungry but too tired to eat. "You didn't have to hold on to him...I appreciate it; he seems to like his playmate a lot."

She nods for the third time of the night, taking a delicate sip of wine. "No problem. Dylan's been very good for Charlie, she hasn't acted the same since _The Blackout._Besides...there was nowhere else for him to go." She just sits, then, regarding him and his partially eaten food. "You haven't touched much."

His face flushes a little; Olivia quirks her brows. There's something cute, she decides, about Lloyd acting like an embarrassed, awkward child that's been caught in the middle of something.

"S-sorry." He bows his head, flicking his eyes around the room as though he's waiting for something to jump up and rip his throat out, then takes a feeble nibble of fish.

He's startled when he feels her hand, despite the bandages, cool and smooth on top of his. A small gasp passes his split lips and his silverware falls to his plate in a ruckus of noisy clatter. His wide, slightly wild eyes take in her face, serene, yet at the same time, slightly unnerved.

"It's okay." She whispers, leaning closer to him, "He's gone, he's not going to get you."

_Gone?_ He thinks. "I'm s-"

"Don't say it." She interrupts, but her tone is a patient one. "Mark and I had a lot of pressure between us...it wasn't going to last much longer."

He searches her face, looking for any trace of anger or blame...he comes up empty. "Is it because of...me?" He asks quietly.

"No." She answers, leaning back a little, her hand remaining on his, "Like I said, it's been building up for a while."

He remains quiet for some time, studying her with as much curiosity as she studies him with. Her eyes, usually blue windows into her mind, are guarded. He realizes he doesn't have her full trust yet. But really, who would? He'd been a complete stranger that had just suddenly thrown himself into her life (albeit unintentionally), probably put a hell of a strain on a marriage already distressed, and was now in the home of the recently divorced(or is she?) woman, on grounds that he still felt were forbidden.

He tried not to sound relieved, callous, or anything derogatory as he cleared his throat and asked, "Is it...official?"

"Yes." She says, sounding more tired than anything. "Yes. The papers are signed and filed, we're divorced."

Though his mental wounds have almost healed, he can tell the word has an effect on her, just as it used to have on him. He slowly, reluctantly, removes his hand from beneath hers, and looks into her eyes. "Olivia," Oh, how he loves how her name rolls so sweetly off his tongue! "Olivia, why did you bring me into your home? You're...you're still wounded, and...and..." He hates how awkward, how careless he sounds. He never was good at this kind of stuff, never had been. He was a scientist, damn it! He knew science, knew all of the confusing formulas, the theories and how a lot of things in the universe worked...but he didn't know people, how to speak what he felt and thought. He shakes his head, irritated, hating himself.

"You mean, why am I embracing you and your son, instead of pushing you away after I've been hurt?" She offers.

"Yes." He sighs. "I've never been good at this."

She nods, once again. "A lot of people aren't. Mark's gone. I...I don't see any reason to fight you anymore." She fixes him with a serious look, however, despite her soft tone. "But...I still need a little time before...before things pick up with us."

Lloyd nods, his flashforward of himself half-naked, and herself nearly nude coming to mind. Yes, she would need more time. Hell, _he_ may need more time. More time to make sure he _did_ want to pursue this. "I understand." He says quietly, and he does.

"Thank you." She whispers, but she doesn't look at him.

They just sit in a comfortable silence, then. They can vaguely hear the sound of a clock tick-tocking from somewhere in the house; Charlie and Dylan romping around upstairs, giggling as though the _Tickle-monster _is in Charlie's very room. A street cat meows from somewhere very near to the house outside, and a dog barks. Olivia, and Lloyd, for that fact, had become very used to these sounds. Well, minus the childish giggling for Lloyd. They both seem very comfortable in each others presence, though, for once, each lost in their own worlds of thought.

The ice-maker chunks a few pieces of ice into the the ice-bucket, startling Olivia first out of her reverie. Lloyd allows himself to yawn, which also brings him back to the prestent. They lock eyes.

"I should get some rest...you too." He smiles. "Where's Dylan been staying? I'll sleep with him...or the floor, or something."

"No, that won't be necessary."

Lloyd arches his brows. They both know what the subject of 'sleep' brings to mind.

"I mean, you don't have to sleep with Dylan...or on the floor. I set up the guest room for you; it has its own bath and shower, so you won't have to carry your clothes down the hall with you, then carry the dirty ones back."

"Oh." Is all he says.

She's mindful of his elbow this time as she leads him up the staircase. He uses the railing, leaning heavily on it, but out of courtesy(or is it comfort?), she keeps a hand splayed at the small of his back. She likes it, she admits to herself. If she's going to be honest with herself, she may as well do it now. She likes _him_, but somehow, she still feels as though she's cheating on Mark. She shakes her head. _He's gone. He chose alcohol over his family. _The truth stings, but she wants to get over _that, _and start getting into _this. _

"You brought...my clothes?" Lloyd tries to make it sound like a statement, but it still comes out as a question in his ears.

Olivia looks to the three neatly stacked piles of clothes with a blank expression. She'd had nothing to do, and with Mark gone, and Dylan there...she simply got directions from the boy and had gotten the clothing for him. Luckily she'd decided to get them when she got them, the house was a pile of ashes the next morning. "Mark was already gone...I thought you'd want something clean to come to."

Lloyd smiles, mentally, but not physically. She's right.

~ * ~

Lloyd slept. Oh, did he sleep! He hadn't been able to sleep where he'd been kept a hostage; he could only get so comfortable on a dirt floor, could angle himself in only so many ways to keep the dust and dirt from going up his nose. In total, all those weeks, he'd only managed a few hours of sleep. Otherwise, he was too busy worrying about his life, about Dylan...about Olivia. But now, oh...lovely, dreamless, pitch-black sleep. He'd managed to sleep until two in the afternoon, until Olivia came to wake him, concerned.

"Dylan's afraid you've died up here." She says with a partial smile. "And I wanted to see if you need anything tended to."

Lloyd notes that her eyes are still guarded, but this time they're a bit more gentle. He closes his eyes and stretches his body under the covers, then winces. Olivia watches, even more concerned now, as he lifts the covers slightly, allowing only himself to look under them before one of his hands disappears beneath them to touch what ever it is that's ailing him. His wince deepens and he withdraws his hand, a light amount of red liquid coating the tips of his fingers.

"Let me see." Olivia orders.

He hesitates.

"What?" She demands.

"I-...I'm half-n-naked."

She blinks. "I've seen my fair share of shirtless men in my field of work, Lloyd. Let me see it, let me see what's wrong."

He does lift the covers, albeit very reluctant and nervously. He's physically fit, his weight superb for his height. He's not worried about his physical appearance to her, however, he's worried about how she'll take seeing him this way: nearly naked. What if she won't want to help him at all? What if she thinks this is the move that'll get things started, and she'll just push him away again? He pushes the covers down, now, to his waist, so that she can see his right upper arm, chest, and torso wrapped in pristine white bandages. Although, to his right, resting just on top of his ribs, is a blotchy area of red.

She doesn't abandon him.

She does quite the opposite, actually, from what he'd originally thought she would do. She springs into action, something in her mind seeming to tick when she sees that color that she's seen so many times before. She tells him quickly to get up and leads him to the bathroom, where she sits him down on the toilet lid and grabs a medical kit from beneath the sink. Something silver flashes in the corner of Lloyd's eye, though he can't see what it is because she's ordered him to hold his arm up for better access to the wound. The bandages fall away quickly, revealing to Olivia the fresh damage: a cut, it appears to be, all the way diagonally across the right side of Lloyd's ribcage. The skin is torn and frazzled at the edges, and stitches are loose. The area as a whole is an irritated red, very close to infection red, with a little bit of purple and some clear oozie pus.

"What is it?" Lloyd's voice is shaky with nerves...and a tinge of pain. "What's the matter? I haven't seen it yet."

"Nothing too serious. The stitches have been torn a little; I'll have it fixed shortly."

He winces and cringes quite a bit when she uses the liquid medications on him, before sewing him up. She's proud of him, in a way, for sitting so still for her, cooperating and not getting in the way of her work. In the end, she wraps him with fresh gauze and bandages with a smile.

"What is it?" He asks.

"You did well." She smirks, and a sort of...twinkle comes to her eyes, a sort of playful spark. "For a man, anyway." Her hands pass under his left arm with another round of bandages.

"What's that supposed to mean?" His brows furrow, but he indeed takes note of the sudden light in her eyes.

"Oh, men can be so childish sometimes when it comes to having their wounds dressed up. You did quite well." She snips the long strip of bandage and tacks it down, putting the supplies back in the kit not too long after.

Then, something very unexpected happens. So unexpected, in fact, that the two occupants of the bathroom are forced to freeze and lock eyes, unsure of what to do. Lloyd puts his arm down, almost as though planned, just as Olivia straightens up from putting the kit away, accidentally catching her in a half embrace, forcing her arms to maneuver around him in avoidence of crashing into his wounds. They remain still, instantly, staring at each other, trying desperately to read one another; Lloyd looks for any source of anger or fear, Olivia looks for any sign of madness. Surprisingly(to them, anyway), they find none, and so they remain, staring, awkward yet comforted.

Olivia makes the ultimate surprising move(to both herself and Lloyd), by closing her arms around him, hugging him gently, trying not to press herself too hard against him. "I'm glad you're okay, Lloyd." She whispers.

Lloyd has to shake his head(not only mentally but physically as well), to make the words sink in, to make himself hear what he thinks he's heard. His other arm comes around to rest on top of hers on his belly, and he keeps his eyes open as his cheek rests against her array of multi-colored blonde hair. "Thank you." He says, he too choosing to speak in a whisper, not quite trusting his voice. "Thank you."

~ * ~

They begin kissing a few weeks after she patches his wounds. It started out of slight affection, a farewell when Olivia would go to work, a simple kiss on the cheek. Olivia had made the first move, out of habit. She'd told him goodbye, then to Lloyd's surprise, and hers, her lips were against his scarred cheek. They'd stared at each other, not quite sure what to do, then smiled. He'd kissed her on the cheek as well, they'd stared, smiled, then he'd watched her drive away with a wave.

Now, they don't see why they shouldn't kiss. The divorce has long been official, he's lived with her for more than a month, and Olivia herself can deny no longer that she has quite an affection for Lloyd, for his soft eyes, his slight awkward behavior that she finds sweet...his always caring about her and the children before himself. No, neighter of the adults can find a reason _not _to kiss, whether for greeting or farewell, reason or not, or simply because they want to, like now.

Olivia's had a long day at work, Lloyd's had a long day babysitting and cooking(to his best ability) for Dylan and Charlie. They kiss longer than usual, standing in Olivia's room(she's only just begun allowing him to stay in her bed with her, instead of sending him to the spare room), out of view of the children. He notes that she tastes like fruit, and she notes that, despite the scar on his lip, he has a favorable taste as well, though she can't put her finger on what it is: it's slightly salty, with a tinge of sweet.

"What's wrong?" He asks her, breaking the kiss. He's not a genius at her kisses, but he can tell a gentle, relaxed kiss from a tense one full of need. He strokes her hair behind her ear affectionately, dipping his head down just slightly to see her eyes better. "What's bothering you?"

She sighs, despite the fact that she's glad he's noticed she's stressed. "I lost a patient today. He was in bad enough shape when I received him, and I knew I couldn't do much, but..." She looks down, feeling more fatigue as she speaks, "He still died on my table."

"You did what you could? Everything that could possibly help?" Lloyd's arms encircle her waist, strong, warm...comforting.

Olivia falls into him, her hands on his chest, wondering, yet not wondering, how this can feel so good, so familiar...so easy. "Everything...yeah. Everything within the time-frame of bringing someone back."

He lifts his arms, snaking one across the small of her back, the other her upper back, a hand on the back of her head. "You did what you could, that's what matters." He soothes.

"I killed someone." She shudders against his shoulder.

"No, you didn't. You tried-"

She draws back, slightly, looking sadly into his eyes while her hands remain on his chest. "Trying isn't good enough, Lloyd...not when lives are at risk."

He closes his eyes, gathering himself up before looking at her again. "I killed twenty-million people...I know trying and apologizing isn't good enough...but sometimes...it's all we can do."

It's her turn to stroke his hair, cradle his face in her hands. "You didn't kill those people, it was proven. Your experiment didn't hurt anyone, Lloyd."

"It amplified the _Blackout_, that much was proven. More people died than were supposed to, I'm responsible for a few million, at least, He murmurs, looking away.

Olivia studies him, cocking her head to catch more than just his profile. "Hey," She says softly, cradling his jaw in both hands, forcing him to look at her. "We've both had a rough spot, that much is obvious."

She leans up, capturing his lower lip, demanding attention with her tongue. That taste again...that sweet and salty taste...She will him to open his mouth, eliciting gentle moans from his throat. It's the first time she's heard the sounds from him, felt them in her mouth as he, too, intrudes with his own tongue. That taste...She delves deeper, first tracing the sides of his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth. Caramel. She smirks. He tastes like caramel and...salty peanuts.

He moans again, a sort of whimper, this time, his resolve fading more each second. It becomes more prominent, more of a pained moan when she pulls back from his mouth. She smiles again. She can feel his pulse pounding against her breasts...absolutely racing. Is hers racing? Yes, she discovers.

Lloyd's eyes remain closed, his breath unsteady, his arms tight around her. When he finally does look at her, his eyes are dark emeralds, not the usual olives. Dark with desire...adoration. "Wow..." He breathes, gasping for a moment. "God...You're amazing."

She snorts, rolling her eyes. We're both tired." She sighs. "Why don't we find something to eat, and then...watch a movie, or something?" She cocks her head agian, quirking her brows.

He smiles, kisses her lips briefly, and rubs her back. "Okay."

They leave the room, fingers laced, smiling, knowing that once again, Fate has pushed them closer yet again.

~ * ~

_Weeks Later..._

Olivia enjoys shagging Lloyd. Lloyd enjoys shagging Olivia. She loves him, he loves her.

Their legs are tangled, smooth against hairy, but she doesn't mind. Their breaths are heavy, their eyes lively. She touches her forehead to his, laughing into his mouth as she kisses him again. Lloyd is caring, Lloyd is loving, Lloyd is laughing, Lloyd is...caressing her left breast.

"Hands off." She smiles, moving his hand, then hugging him.

He only chuckles and pushes the left bra-strap aside, kissing her shoulder. "But, I thought you liked my touching you...that's the signal I got."

She only continues smiling, opting to hug him again. They lay in silence, in each others arms, listening to the sounds of the house hold. They can hear Dylan and Charlie giggling loudly, running around downstairs. The washing machine chimes and then cuts off. The clock on the nightstand beeps, pronouncing another hour gone by.

Lloyd snorts and puts his arms around Olivia again after checking the time. "More than an hour."

Olivia nods. "Impressive. I was entertained."

Lloyd cocks his brows, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"In a good way." She clarifies.

A smile, but just a small one, before Lloyd's face becomes serious. He takes a breath, a deep one, and studies her face, his fingers idly stroking her skin.

Olivia, seeing the change in mood, becomes serious as well, raising up a bit on an elbow. "What's wrong, Lloyd?"

Lloyd's jaw moves on its own accord, but no words are produced. He stops, as though considering something, then starts his jaw working again. "I-...I..." He stops again, sighing.

Now fully aware of a problem, Olivia cups the right side of his face, staring at him full in the eyes. "Hey, you can tell me anything. What's going on, Lloyd? What's wrong?"

He seems to absorb her words, tilting his head and looking for something in her eyes like a child.

He's afraid, she realizes.

"Hey, hey, what is it?" She lays him over on his back, laying half on top of him while stroking his cheek. "Tell me what's wrong, honey."

Honey. Honey, a name of endearment, a pet name. Lloyd's eyes seem to perk instantly at the name. He shifts his weight beneath her, and takes another deep breath. "Olivia, I...I love you."

She freezes. Did he just say..? Her fingers stop stroking his face, her breath catches in her throat. He did. She doesn't know what to do, what to say; her brain seems to have stopped working all together. She watches helplessly as Lloyd's eyes dim, go to a dull green as he reaches for his phone when it beeps.

Slowly, he untangles himself from her and pulls his pants on. "Sorry, I've got to make a phone call."

In those eight words, she knows she's hurt him. In those eight words, he's hurt _her, _too. Bitter, angry words. But can she blame him? No, she can't. She's just rejected him in her stuppor, broken his so fragile heart that he's been allowing her to handle so carefully. But...he'll forgive her, right? He loves her, he just said so. Surely forgiveness is in the atmosphere if he truely _does _love her. _So, why not find out? _She decides.

She raises herself up from the bed, closing a soft pink robe around her body as she heads for the door.

The sight takes her breath away. There he is, on the couch, shirtless, phone in hand...exactly like her flashforward. She wills herself forward, her mind and body still stiff as she props her elbows on the banister. This is it. These words will change her life, and his. She leans over, staring at him. Deep breath, assurance, and then--"Honey?"

Lloyd's brows raise in question, his eyes slightly wide. The realization has hit him, too...the future is happening, right here, right now. His expression remains somber, but his eyes sparkle hopefully. He watches her as though she's his last hope of life, as though she's the world, the universe.

A smile comes to Olivia's lips, slightly frightened, but happy. her hands lower to rest on the banister as well, and, swallowing, her heart pounding in her ears, with all care and affection, any feeling she has for Lloyd, she says, "I love you, too."

Fin

**Author's Note: Please review, I worked on this for quite a few months, and would like some constructive criticism. :)**


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